


Of When Her World Fell Apart

by emeraldeye



Series: Azalea Trevalyan, Inquisitor [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldeye/pseuds/emeraldeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set before the start of the Inquisition story line. It covers how Azalea Trevalyan left the Ostwick Circle and what effect such drastic changes made on her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of When Her World Fell Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I have created this to be part of a series that will be documenting Azalea Trevalyn's life as an inquisitor as I play it. It WILL have spoilers but I will be attempting to keep the stories as close to canon as possible. I intend to romance Cullen on this play through so there will be some silences in the story with those two that I will write about.
> 
> Part 1 of this series will be about her time before becoming the Herald.  
> Part 2 of this series will be about her time as Herald before the fall of Haven.  
> There will likely be more parts as I write them and I'll update accordingly.
> 
> This particular story came about from a need to understand my character in game and where she is coming from when she gives her answers. In order to have a consistent role playing experience I needed to know what motivated her. While the codex in game says only that she left the circle to be part of the mages' delegation at the conclave, the wiki notes that the Templars turned on the Ostwick Circle, attacking it. This would definitely be something important to our lady inquisitor so I decided I would explore it. 
> 
> It would also explain how she got that scar over her eyebrow: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10152905798147902&set=gm.827075057334455&type=1

It was evening when her entire world was destroyed. The sun had only just set over the horizon and Azalea Trevalyn, Ostwick Circle mage, was reclining in a couch in the library, a hot tea in nursed in her lap, looking out the large floor-to-ceiling windows and admiring her view. This was her favourite time of day, a time she always took for herself, to relax, reflect, and just unwind. Not that her life at the circle was particularly taxing, in fact she loved it there. Whenever she visited her family, always accompanied by two or three templars of course, she was always left longing to get back. Recently her family had started wanting her to marry, nevermind how such a thing is rather more complicated within the circle for anyone to really want to marry. But it was for political reasons, not convenience, and the last time she had visited there had been no less than four eligible young men who just happened to be stopping by for her to meet. She was interested in none of them. In truth, her heart belonged to another, though there was no way she could ever tell her family as such. Derrek was a templar here at the circle and was often assigned to her personal guard. She made the templars nervous, she knew that. They were nervous around all mages of course, but Azalea had control over more magic than most. It sang to her; she understood it in an innate way that was beyond most mages, especially one as young as her. 

Last night though... Azalea smiled with the memory. Last night Derrek and sneaked into her room. Up until then they had shared nothing more some flirting that made those around them smile but otherwise ignore, a chaste kiss or two whenever they could find some time alone with each other. But last night she had told him she would set up wards around her room that would prevent her neighbours from hearing anything, if only he could prevent his fellow templars from patrolling this particular corridor and being able to sense it. Derrek, for his part, had ensured that he alone would be on patrol in this corridor, giving them several hours to enjoy each other. That had been the best night of her life. She didn't know if she loved him, but she had loved his body and he had loved hers. It was her first time and she still felt the warm glow in the pit of her stomach as she daydreamed about it. 

Azalea smiled into her cup as she took a drink. Afraid that people might talk if they spent too long together, after last night she has spent most of today either in the library studying - anatomy and how magic affected it was her current interest - or in the infirmary helping out the healers there where she could. In truth though, she really didn't mind spending her time in that way. Of course she would have liked to speak to Derrek more, but she was accepting that their relation would have to be a secret. And she truly enjoyed researching and learning and practicing her skills to help others. If magic was created to serve mankind what better use for her time was there? 

A few of her teachers disagreed though. There had been talks, in private of course, of the mage rebellion that was sweeping the country. The Feraldan circle had been first, and then the Kirkwall circle, quickly followed by others, the mages rebelling against unfair treatment from the templars and the prison like experience of the circles. Azalea had been invited to a few of those talks but for the most part she only listened, saying little. So far at least, Ostwick Circle remained neutral, something Azalea was particularly grateful for. She knew that some circles were horrible places to live, where the mages were treated little better than prisoners or slaves, that the templars abused the power they had over them, but it wasn't like that at the Ostwick circle. Oh, sure, there were cases of things getting out of hand, of fights breaking out, especially with new templars wanting to prove themselves and mages who had been forced to go to the circle against their will, but for the most part they were few and far between. While it was rare for templars and mages to associate they mostly existed in harmony, the templars protecting the mages not only from themselves especially during a harrowing, but sometimes also assisting in experiments. There were some experiments where a mage was at a greater risk of possession especially when they involved investigations into the fade. There were always templars at hand willing to watch on to prevent a disaster from occurring in such cases. They also helped the people of Ostwick as well, and, while Azalea had always required a guard whenever she left the circle to visit friends and family, they were always polite and courteous when escorting her.

Which was why, when three templars burst through the door to the library, swords drawn, it took Azalea a moment to accept what was going on. Had something happened? Did they need help with a mage who had been possessed? She sensed a lot of magic being used, but nothing particularly malicious that would suggest a possession. Swinging her legs over the couch to stand, she was about to put her cup of tea aside and ask what the problem was when she was hit in the chest with an invisible force that had her stumbling backwards, knees hitting the couch and forcing her to sit once more, the tea falling from numb fingers to shatter on the stone floor. She managed to gasp in two breaths as the templars approached her and it was only now that she noticed their swords were bloody. They had killed already tonight. Fearing what they meant to do Azalea attempted to reach for her magic but found only nothingness. Gritting her teeth and pushing herself forward to stand once more, even moving forward a few steps, she gathered all of her control and a blast spread outwards from her, breaking the hold the templars had. The templars before her were young, not as skilled at their magic hindering abilities as some of the veterans at the circle which was the only reason her attempt had succeeded. They were stunned long enough for Azalea to cast an ice trap at their feet, locking them in place. She had no desire to truly hurt them, surely this was just a misunderstanding that the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander could work out. Hearing shouts, she ran from the room, ignoring the furious shouts of the templars trapped in place. 

The room she ran into was one of the classrooms used to teach acolytes. Azalea herself had spent many hours in this room before her harrowing studying and trying to understand everything she could, devouring whatever information her teachers presented her with. Now though, the acolytes were cowering beneath their desks, all children of about ten or twelve years old. The bodies of three children were already in bloody puddles in the doorway, the templars stepping over them, dismissing them like trash. 

"Azalea, here!" 

Azalea caught the staff that the class's teacher, Richar, threw to her. The elf was standing between the templars and the other children, attempting to prevent the templars from continuing their slaughter. Azalea stood beside him and quickly cast a barrier spell over them. The elf seemed surprised that she still had access to her magic, but not nearly as surprised as the templars before them.

"Azalea, stand down!" one of them ordered, and Azalea felt her heart leap with recognition. It was Derrek. He was wearing a helmet that obscured his face, but she would recognise that voice anywhere. 

Stepping forward, though keeping her hold on the staff light and low, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, she said, "Derrek, what is going on here? Why are you attacking everyone, and innocent children at that?"

"The Rite of Annulment has been authorized. The children are not innocent but blood mages in training. As are you all," Derrek said before launching his own dispelling attack. Unfortunately, Derrek was a lot more experienced than the templars in the library and the punch-in-the-gut sensation of Azalea's connection to the fade and her magic being cut off was a lot stronger and more forceful. 

Recovering quickly but this time not bothering to attempt to break the hold, knowing it wouldn't work, Azalea rose the staff defensively before her. "No," she said firmly. "I can't let you do this. It's not right. Kill the mages if you will, but leave the acolytes alone." It was foolish really, but a part of her believed that Derrek would listen to her, would, if not call off the attack entirely, at least use reason.

"No," Derrek said, his voice a growl, his eyes, visible through the visor of his helmet, dark with hate. He rose his sword. Azalea saw it coming down towards her and instinctively continued trying to reach for her magic, to throw up a barrier once more, not really believing that Derrek would kill her, not after last night. 

The sword kept descending towards her though and it was almost too late that she realized that he wasn't going to stop, that he meant to kill her, to cleave his sword right through her head. Frantically, she pulled backwards, raising her staff defensively to try to divert the attack. It almost worked; the sword didn't slice through her skull but it did cut her face. A sharp burning pain over her eyebrow, her vision going red as blood flowed into her eye and Azalea stumbled backwards. She was given no time to recover though before an armoured foot slammed into her chest. Aided with the templar's magic she flew through the air, slamming forcefully into the stone wall, the back of her head connecting with the stone with an audible crunch before the world went dark.


	2. And Now We're Apostates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azalea wakes to find herself away from Ostwick and on the run.

_Blood. Blood everywhere. Pooled on the ground. Splattered on the walls. Dead staring eyes, the eyes of children. Sometimes. Sometimes it was adults. Sometimes it was impossible to tell, the bodies hacked apart, a hand here, half a head there. Her mouth was open slightly, she could taste the blood that pooled around her. And the smell. The smell of dead bodies, the reek of bowles that had let go, of intestines split open and spilling their contents and, over it all, the tangy metalic scent of drying blood. Blood. Blood everywhere._

Azalea woke with a gasp that quickly descended into a groan, a hand raising to her head. There were bandages there, and it hurt. Blinking, she tried to bring the world into focus as a face appeared before her, blurry, bloodied with a large gash over his face hastily stitched closed, but familiar. Richar. One corner of his mouth, the side that hadn't been sliced open, lifted in a small smile. "Glad to see you're awake," he said, his voice quiet. "We weren't sure if you would for a while."

"You look... Worse than I do," Azalea said, her voice croaky. Her body ached and she was sure she was covered in bruises, but apart from her head she didn't believe she was injured. Hearing the raspiness of her voice, Richar handed a water flask to her.

"Just a little, we don't have much," he said, and Azalea did as he requested, sipping a little of the stale water, swirling it around her mouth and swallowing before handing it back.

"Where are we? How... How did we get out?" she asked as she looked around. There were a few other mages around, a half dozen or so, and four acolytes, all of them injured but all of them alive.

"We're in a cave, somewhere south of Ostwick. After you were knocked out, I got the children to run and held off the templars as long as I could. This had just happened," he waved a hand over his face, "when a dagger opened the templar's throat. There was an elf there I didn't recognise, not a mage, who was fighting the templars alone. He killed them, including Derrek."

Hearing that, Azalea bit her lip and nodded slightly. It was expected, of course if she were alive then Derrek would have had to have died or he never would have stopped until all the mages under his care were killed. But it still hurt. "Was it quick, at least?" she asked. She knew that he didn't deserve a quick death, that he had murdered three students and who knew how many others, but the part that had, if not loved at least been very fond of him didn't want him to suffer.

Richar nodded. "It was. He went the same was as the others, the dagger across the throat so fast it could barely be seen. The elf then spoke in an Antivan accent, he said 'Stay alive, I'll be back once they are dead.' and he left. I did what I could for you when I saw you were still alive, as well as for Sarah, one of my students who was too frightened to run. The elf came back after the sounds of fighting had ended and made sure we got out alright. Thank the Maker the templars had waited until sunset to attack, it was dark by the time we fled and we got out unseen."

"Where's the elf now? I should thank him," Azalea said.

"Gone," Richar replied. "He left as soon as we were safely out of Ostwick. It was a 'happy accident. Or perhaps not so happy accent for those dead,' he said," Richar said, his voice imitating the Antivan accent almost perfectly.

Azalea sighed and closed her eyes, her hand resting on her forehead. "And so now we are apostates," she said, her voice pained. It was not something she had ever thought she would be. She enjoyed living in the circle and, for all its faults, believed it was a good system. The templars had always protected them and she had felt safe around them. Until now anyway.

"Now we're apostates," Richar repeated quietly. "We've decided that the best course of action will be to head south to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, to the Conclave there. Will you join us? Your noble birth could be beneficial, reassuring them that we aren't all blood mages and elves," he said with that same half smile. Richar and Azalea had gone through their training together, though Richar was a few years older than Azalea. The Daelish had always considered himself lucky. In some clans, he said, if a child was born with magic when there were already enough mages for the clan they could be killed. Others would send them to nearby clans who have less mages, or perhaps just abandon them completely. Richar had been sent to the circle instead when there were no other clans nearby who needed him. He had chafed under the circle restrictions more than Azalea had, but had never made any kind of move against them, understanding the need for such things in place. It was just bad luck, he said, to be born a mage _and_ an elf.

"I don't have much of a choice," Azalea said quietly. "If I return home, I'll just bring danger to my family. Provided they even take me back after what's happened. Or I can strike out on my own, but a lone mage is guaranteed to be taken for true apostate or blood mage and killed." She shook her head. "No, I'll come with you. Maybe I can speak reason to this heated discussion, proof that not all circles were abusive all the time."

"Thank you," Richar said and Azalea was surprised to see the relief written on his face; she didn't think it would mean that much to him.

"I've always wanted to make a pilgrimage to the Temple of Sacred Ashes," she added with a half smile.

Richar gave a snort at that. "Well now you'll get to see it up close and personal. Get some rest. We'll be moving in a few hours."


End file.
